


Sugar, We’re Going Down

by AmyPond45



Series: 12 Days of Wincestmas 2017 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12 Days of Wincestmas, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 15:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13298139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: Reunion sex can be messy.





	Sugar, We’re Going Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soy_em](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/gifts).



> Day 10 of this year’s 12 Days of Wincestmas on tumblr.

When Dean’s mind swims to consciousness, the first thing he becomes aware of is warm, sweaty skin pressed against his cheek. He’s drooling a little, so he licks his lips, turns his face into the warm skin to kiss away any moisture he’s left there.

The skin smells spicy, sweaty, familiar. And male.

Dean opens one eye. He’s lying on his side, pressed against Sam’s naked body, one leg slung across Sam’s, morning wood pressed tight against Sam’s hip. His right hand is lying palm down over Sam’s left pec, and when he moves his thumb he brushes Sam’s nipple, eliciting a deep sigh from his still-sleeping little brother. Dean’s fallen asleep with his head resting on Sam’s shoulder, his face half-pressed into Sam’s chest, and Sam’s got his arm around him so that there can be no mistaking the fact that Dean’s snuggling, cuddled against Sam in his sleep.

Sam stirs, turns his head and presses a sleepy kiss against Dean’s forehead.

“Okay,” Dean mutters, rolling onto his back, away from Sam’s warmth, and immediately wishes he was still asleep.

The motel room is a disaster. Even in the dim light of early morning Dean can see the upturned chairs, broken lamps, smashed table. There’s a man-sized indentation in the wall where Sam shoved him last night, and the contents of their duffels have been dumped on the floor and strewn around like discarded pieces of their broken lives. Evidence of the previous night’s activities is almost too much for Dean to take in this early in the morning, especially before coffee.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters as he rolls off the bed and staggers to the bathroom. He leaves the door open while he takes a piss, partly because he can’t be bothered to close it, but mostly because it’s broken and hanging off one hinge anyway.

He stares at his face in the mirror over the sink and flinches as he touches the bruise on his left cheek where Sam’s elbow caught him last night in the midst of their bout of extremely physical make-up sex. He’s fairly sure he left one just like it on Sam’s cheek, along with bruises on his hips in the shape of his fingers where he finally managed to hold Sam down long enough to fuck him.

Well, at least that’s out of the way. All the weeks of pent-up tension and avoidance finally came to a head last night, and it’s a good thing, Dean tells himself. Sam was furious with Dean for being out of touch for so long, and then overcome with grief and guilt about Jessica’s death, so he had a lot of feelings to express last night. Dean’s aches and bruises can attest to that. Maybe it’ll be easier going forward between them now.

They’ve still got to find Dad, track down the thing that killed Jessica, killed their mom. They’ve still got work to do, but at least they’re back on the same page again, anger dissipated, grudges settled, personal demons temporarily exorcized.

Dean dresses quietly and pulls his jacket on. He’s got his hand on the front door when Sam rolls over.

“Dean? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean shoots Sam what he hopes looks like his old cocky grin, full of confidence and reassurance. “Everything’s fine. Just goin’ out for coffee.”

“Okay.” Sam sinks back into the bed, sounding young and vulnerable and trusting.

It warms his heart, gives him courage. Dean’s got his little brother back, and all’s right with the world.


End file.
